


The Wayward Son

by InebriatedGlowworm



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman: Under the Red Hood, DCU, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 12:08:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10571001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InebriatedGlowworm/pseuds/InebriatedGlowworm
Summary: Set during the beginning events of Batman: Under the Red Hood. The Red Hood is making a name for himself, and Batman wants to put him in jail or better yet, Arkham. A lucky crony got a bead on the Red Hood.The Red Hood is wounded and returns home.





	

Batman enters his cave after a long night of patrol. With its grandiose space, and pristine floors. The array of vehicles, the row of uniforms on display, most of them battle worn. The trinkets from previous missions, a trex, a giant penny and photos.

As I take my cowl off, I notice a pair of legs loosely planted underneath my chair and a red puddle slowly growing bigger, the drips echoing throughout the cave, on the huge monitor, Red Hood's file was up and someone was steadily flipping through it. The sound of the clicking space bar was only second to the dripping lifeline. The chair slowly starts to turn around, the red blobs making an arc. It was the last person I expected. In his stoic helmet, was the Red Hood, the glint off the barrel of his gun stops me from advancing forward. 

"Well, here I am!", he taps his wrists together, "arrest me." 

There was a wet spot on his jacket with three corresponding holes in his abdomen, soaked bandages strewn about my console. I wait for the Red Hood to continue. 

"Don't bother calling upstairs. I have this trusty little device that blocks all communications," smacking a black box sitting on the desk leaving blood smears around it. "Or pressing your emergency communicator on your costume," waving the gun trying to make his point. 

"I am going to take you to jail," I start to say but he cuts me off with wild laughter that goes into a pained cough. "If you haven't noticed, I am bleeding out," he gingerly touches his wound and flings the blood from his hand, spatter lands on every nearby surface. 

I stay silent. 

"This is not what I had planned, but it is what I have in this short world," he absent mindlessly says. 

"What do you have planned?"

"I would have knocked Black Mask out of power and viciously run Gotham's crime syndicate, I would have gotten Joker out of Arkham, torture and kill him with prejudice. But thanks to one of Mask's cronies who got the drop on me, I won't be able to do that," he yells with regret hanging on every last word. 

"Gotham's had enough of your killing," I spit between my clenched teeth.

"You mean 'Gotham has not had enough of my killing.'' 

His expressionless helmet makes it impossible to read his facial features.

I start to move closer. In retaliation, he shoots near my feet, stopping me cold. His gun shook a little more in his hand and his breathing becomes more ragged. 

"Goddamn! It feels like I'm digging my way out of my grave!" trying to hide his panicked breathing and reaches behind his helmet, clicking the release.

The mask hiding the culprit clunks to the ground and he ruffles his sweat licked black hair. I was shocked by how young he looked, he didn't appear to be a day older than nineteen. He has an unnatural pallor about him. His eyes were a deep blue, the color of the Atlantic ocean when you're flying over it. He had..

"Jason?" I gasp.

He smiles an evil smile, and his eyes turn hard. 

"How?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "No thanks to you, you threw me in a box and replaced me. Let's get back on topic. Why is the Joker still alive? He has escaped from Arkham many times and has killed graveyards upon graveyards of people, yet he is still allowed to roam this earth. Why?"

"Jason, if I allowed myself to go down that road I will never come back," I say quietly.

"I'm not talking about Dent or Penguin. Him, just him!"

"Jay," I caution him.

"No! You and your antiquated sense of morality!" he starts saying but is violently interrupted by a coughing fit, that ends with blood dribbling down his chin.

I move in closer, knocking the gun out of his hand and crouch beside him, "Let me help you."

I reach into my med kit, pulling out fresh bandages and start putting them on the wounds. 

He weakly swats my hand away, "No! If you can't kill the Joker then my blood is going to be on your hands."

The death rattle sounds like a vehicle chugging to start, granted not a strong one. There is nothing I can do. I cradle his head in both my hands and kiss his forehead, "I'm sorry."

His frail hand rests on mine for a second, leaving a bloody print in its wake. He looks me in the eye, a panicked expression passing across his face, "Dad." 

 

Jason sinks back into the chair. The Red Hood would not be terrorizing Gotham any more. Bruce struggles to breathe, frozen in shock. This cannot be happening again. 

"If he only.." falls upon deaf ears. He smashes the black box with his fist, rivers are a running down his face as he stares at his son.

"Master Bruce, I have your breakfast," Alfred's tray hits the ground with a thunderclap.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave feedback!


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